The Boss Of You || Jack In The Box X Reader

The Drive Home

Authors Note: Vomit warning!!! My bad

It's cold outside the bar, you decide you're better off not risking your life drinking and driving and to just find a way to pick up your car in the morning. The real question is how to get home. Normally you would just fall asleep in your car, but your work schedule wouldn't exactly approve of that.

Y/N: Jack

Y/N: Jack I'm sorry

Y/N: Okay I'm not

Y/N: But like

Y/N: When I'm not drunk I probably will be

Unknown Number: So, you're drinking?

Y/N: Hii

Y/N: Yeah. Mostly

Y/N: Are you mad at me

Y/N: You are its okay

Y/N: You should keeptexting methough :)

Y/N: If I get kidnapped or drugged or something from the bar then you're held accountable

Unknown Number: How would I be held accountable?

Y/N: Idk lol

Y/N: I'll find a way!!!!!!

Y/N: So Jack

Unknown Number: Yes?

Y/N: You should totally give me a ride home

Y/N: So I can make it to work

Y/N: And get paid

Y/N: Please

Unknown Number: Send me your location.

Jack's expensive car pulls up not even 5 minutes later. He is still in one of his expensive suits, you wonder if his closet owns anything else. Does he sleep in that thing? Does he shower in it? You dryly laugh at the idea, he walks out of the vehicle.

"Do you need some help?," he rushes to your aid, he puts his hand around your waist and guides your arm to lean on him.

"Woahhh, hey man, take me out to dinner first before you get all touchy," you push him off you, but stumble back into his frame. You're usually stubborn, but you don't have much power in you to fight him off.

"Shh it's alright..," he opens the car door for you, buckling you in.

"I'm not a child.."

"You're not. I know."

He closes your side of the car door, and climbs into his side. You expect him to immediately start driving, to cut this experience short and to start the process of forgetting what could have been. He doesn't. He puts his hands on the wheel, looking down at his legs almost in shame.

"Hmm?" You turn your head lazily and smile at him.

"It's nothing. Just need a second."

"Mhmm... is that ur favorite suit jacket?"

"Huh?"

"I always see you in it. It's the one you gave me the first time I saw you outside of work. You gave me your favorite one?"

"I just...Fuck, you can't make anything easy."

"What?"

"I like to.. I .. it makes me think of you. And that night."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

He finally starts his car, random songs play on the radio, but they're muffled under the air vents. You stare out the window, the light blurs out your eyes. It's quiet, too quiet. You felt sick and not just from the alcohol. You need to break the silence.

"Why did you say that?"

"What?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I don't."

"Why did you say you love me? You don't know me. We talk maybe like... what? Once a week. Sure, we have gotten closer or whatever the past month, but you don't know who I am. You can't love me. You can't."

He stays quiet, and he keeps his eyes on the road, as if he is allergic to eye contact. It's quiet again. You pick at your fingernails, you feel like jumping out the window. It's better to talk about this now then when your sober, makes it easier. You like to think it's makes it easier, atleast.

"You smell like alcohol."

"What? I mean like no shit, sherlock."

"It's different. You smell like warmth usually."

"Warmth?"

"Yeah. You smell like the type of cabin someone vacations to in the winter. Freshly washed blankets, coffee, an open fire. With all the cold around you, you still manage to be comfortable and feel like home."

You turn away from the window and stare holes into his head. Your face is blank, you're not sure what emotion you should feel right now. He takes this as his permission to continue.

"You bring in the same breakfast everyday. Plain bagel with cream cheese, one of your coworkers suggested sesame seeds, but you find it too much of a mess in the mornings. When you finish your coffee you drink from a cheap water bottle covered in stickers from local businesses and bands. You hate publicly supporting big brands, despite working for one. You say you don't like talking, but when you do it's like a beautiful firework going off. You trail off topic alot, but you never notice when you do. You're pretentious, stubborn, and demanding. You're inconsiderate, every other dad a customer complains over your bluntness. You're never nice to me, and when you are it never lasts long. But I'm... im obsessed with you. I love it all. I need you, I need you to stay where I can see you. Take whatever you want from me, I don't care, I don't care that you're too drunk to remember this by the morning, because I'll tell you it over and over and over and..."

You made it to your parking lot about half way through his monologue. His head bangs into the horn of the car, the noise bounces around in your ears. He's a mess like this, you're not used to such an appearance from him.

"Jack.."

"I love you. I'm sorry."

"You know that I don't.. I .."

"Please don't say it. I know. I know, Y/N."

"No.. I'm.. Im.. Oh god."

You open the car door with the strength of ten men, and spew your guts out over the pavement. You tumble down out of his car, laying with your knees on the ground. He wakes up from his trance of a confession, rushing to your side.

He holds your hair out of your face, your skin is drained, strings of spit connect your mouth to the spill. Your head is throbbing, everything is too much. Too much.